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likely to invite anyone to the wedding beyond those obliged to come; particularly, he would not invite a confidant of the king. That meant that Salisbury had offered his company. Was this the result of simple gratitude and friendship, as Ian thought, or was Salisbury planting some secret seed? He was the youngest royal bastard that Henry II had fathered, but strong bastards had sat on thrones before. Color rose in Alinor's face; she raised eyes sparkling with interest to Ian. He was so tired he was swaying on his feet. |
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''Good God," she exclaimed, "what a fool you are. Why did you tell me you had slept? Why did you not go to bed right after dinner?" |
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"Because I had to know" His voice was thick with the sudden overwhelming fatigue that followed relief. |
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"There is nothing more you are going to know. Go to bed!" |
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The answer Ian began was interrupted by another jaw-cracking yawn. That defeated him. He laughed, stepped still closer to take and kiss Alinor's hand. |
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"Yes, madam," he agreed meekly. |
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She watched him turn away. Even staggering slightly with sleepiness, he was as graceful as a big cat. "Ian." He stopped abruptly, stiffening a little, turned his head. "Do not you dare dress in the morning before I have seen to that back again." |
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The stiffness melted. He offered a last, sleepy smile. "Yes, madam." |
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